


Taxi

by Oh_i_swear



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: And gets totally blindsided, Becca Barnes is a Good Bro, Bucky Barnes human disaster, Bucky Barnes is an oblivious idiot, Bucky tries to do the right thing, M/M, One Shot, Shrunkyclunks, Steve Rogers is Captain America, Taxi driver Bucky Barnes, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, found property, lost property, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_i_swear/pseuds/Oh_i_swear
Summary: Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a good taxi driver.He's so good, he actually tries to return lost property that ends up left in his car and... well.  It has some unexpected consequences involving a National Icon.Enough said.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 49
Kudos: 299





	Taxi

**Author's Note:**

> \- So this all started from an ask game over on Tumblr, in which we were asking each other for made up fic titles and then making up a story to go with it. The lovely Lynne [ (The1918)](%E2%80%9D) gave me ‘Taxi’ as a title, and I outlined almost what this fic became, though there have been a few edits.  
> \- Anyway, taxi driver Bucky being ridiculous and oblivious and Cap Steve being amused by all of it wouldn’t get out of my brain. And so it turned into around 5k of adorable meet-cute one shot.  
> \- This one hasn’t been beta read, so all mistakes are absolutely my own.

Bucky Barnes was, he hoped, a decent Taxi driver. He didn’t insist on conversation if his patrons didn’t seem to want it, he knew the easiest and fastest ways to get around New York City in a car (though really, most locals would know that the subway was probably the most efficient if you could deal with the stale armpit smell it had especially in the summer) and the inside of his cab was always clean and he always had a fresh air freshener. 

What? His mother had raised a good boy, and what she hadn’t managed in terms of Bucky’s accepted levels of cleanliness had been achieved by a good couple of years serving in the Army – and besides that would you let your office be disgusting? Regardless of it being a bright yellow vehicle, it was his place of work and Bucky had some pride.

It was mid afternoon on a Friday, and Bucky had just done a drop off when he saw a flustered looking guy with his arm stuck right out clearly trying to hail. He pulled over, and pressed the button to allow the door to open.

“Hey there. You looking for a taxi?” he asked looking up properly then and… wow. Okay. He’d obviously noted that the guy was tall with broad shoulders, but what he hadn’t bargained on was that _face_. It was the like someone had brought to life a description of a good looking man – high cheekbones, a full lower lip, slightly crooked nose and those _eyes_. They were summer sky blue with just the slightest flecks of green and rimmed in some of the longest and thickest lashes Bucky had ever seen in his life. ‘Wow’ really was the only word he could use.

“I, yeah – I’m sorry ‘bout this, I usually wouldn’t I just-“ the guy started rambling, and Bucky noted that he had what sounded like a local accent and a toe curlingly deep timbre to it. It was also slightly familiar, but was that just the New York twang to it? Probably, he decided. 

“No worries pal, get yourself in and tell me where you wanna go,” he replied, waiting for the guy to do just that, noticing in the way he moved that the guy was clearly a gym regular – those thighs had to have some muscle in them. He put a bag in the foot well and strapped himself in.

“That’s the thing – I don’t particularly want to go,” the blond stranger sighed, before shaking his head. “But that’s not really your problem – uh, could you get me to Stark Industries please?” 

Please? Now there was a word that a New York cab driver heard depressingly infrequently. 

“Sure thing, pal,” he replied with a nod and the familiar stranger slumped in his passenger seat. “Business meeting?” 

The stranger glanced across giving Bucky a curious look before smiling a little – Bucky could see the change in expression in his rear view mirror even as he pulled out into his lane. “I guess you could call it that. It’s a bit last minute, haven’t been given a huge window of time to get there.”

“Some would argue that the subway’d be faster – not that I’m complainin’ about anyone using a cab,” he added with a grin. “So, you’re local, right? I wouldn’t be so sure but your accent kinda gives you away.” 

“I guess so, yeah. I grew up in Brooklyn, but these days I don’t spend so much time in the city as I’d like,” he replied as his cellphone started to vibrate. He pulled it out and swore softly under his breath as he swiped at it, Bucky seeing the movement in his peripheral vision. “And this is the main reason the subway wouldn’t have been ideal today – I need to be in contact at all times.”

“Work?” He asked, not trying to be nosey but trying to continue the conversation. The warm, deep voice this guy had was like movie star level shit and memorable in the same way. Something about it itched at Bucky’s brain but he really couldn’t figure out why.

“Mhmm, I’ve got some… pretty demanding colleagues,” the guy replied, seeming quite amused as he spoke as if there were some sort of joke that Bucky should be in on. Some people would find it annoying, but Bucky got through life mainly remembering that almost all of the people he had in his cab would go back to their busy lives once they got out and Bucky would never see them again. He seldom got annoyed or offended and only really snapped about things he _really_ cared about, because there were always _limits_. 

“That’s one of the best things about driving a cab honestly – sure I have bosses and a schedule but once I’m out here the amount of people giving me orders is pretty much down to zero – clients excepted, of course,” he added with a smile, tall-blonde-and-handsome chuckling appreciatively at his humour. “It’s actually one of the things that really appealed when I was tryin’ to figure what to do with myself when I got back.”

The man’s head turned then and he raised an eyebrow. “Got back?”

Bucky hummed. “Yeah, I’m ex-military. I was a sergeant in the Army. Did a couple tours, saw some things, didn’t really know what to do when I got back – it’s the story everyone’s heard. I never thought I’d be part of that statistic but here I am, living the dream,” he said, shaking his head and honking his horn as another driver cut him up, turning to take a slight detour and avoid what he knew would be a heavy traffic area at this time of the day.

“Really? Huh,” the guy breathed. “We got that in common then, though I guess you could say I’m not really out yet.”

“Yeah? You military?” He asked and it would make sense if he was, wanting to get to the Stark Tower for work, Bucky supposed. Stark was meant to have stopped producing weapons and all that stuff but it would make sense if he still has connections.

The guy chuckled again – and really, Bucky was starting to wonder if he was actually missing something here. Still, he pushed the thought away – likely it was to do with blonde-and-buff’s enviable physique. It would make sense that he had a relatively active job.

“Sort of. Army… or I was, I guess?” he replied, phrasing it like a question and yeah, okay, that was a weird response, but Bucky knew how weird it was coming back to civilian life and trying to adjust back to it and how annoying it was with anyone - let alone cab driving strangers – questioned what you did to get through that. 

“Well, either way that gives us something in common other than both being in the same cab in the same city, huh?” he asked, breaking that line of questioning and practically feeling the guy relax next to him. 

“I guess it does,” he agreed with a nod. “So how does a vet end up driving a cab anyway? If that’s not too personal a question?” 

Bucky chuckled. “Nah, it’s personal but it’s fair. I’ve been back a couple years, had to take a bit of time, you know? Then when I was ready I had to really try and think about what it was I wanted to do with myself. Initially, my routine was pretty poor – I struggled to sleep, the bed was too soft… I wouldn’t have made a good employee on a nine til’ five, that was for sure. So anyway, I had a cousin who did this and he suggested I give it a shot even if it was a temporary measure. And it’s kind of soothing, you know? Driving around all the time, and like I said, far less direct orders. At first I worked the night shifts where I could – more money, not sitting up in my apartment alone and watching the world move past – it felt better. But now I do a bit of a mixture. When I need more I can pick up more shifts, do less when I need a break – it’s a pretty good deal. As much as a guy like me could hope,” he shrugged before clearing his throat. 

“That… actually makes a whole lot of sense,” the man replied, clearly thinking about it.

Bucky nodded. “It made sense at the time, and now I’m doing it I enjoy it and it pays the bills. And it’s easy, you know? I don’t go home with any worries.”

“Leaving your work at work – sounds... pretty good actually,” he agreed, leaning back in his seat. “Not a lot of jobs offer that – or not many I’ve had anyway.”

“Did you go in straight out of school, too?” Bucky asked, figuring that if he was crossing lines the guy would tell him to mind his own business and that would be that.

“No, not quite,” he said with another mysterious smile as Bucky started heading into Manhattan. “I was a little later, but I didn’t really have a career to speak of before then.”

“Right, I get you. I went in straight out of high school myself, needed the discipline and it got me out of my Ma’s house and gave her a mouth less to feed. Seemed like a good plan,” he said with a smile. “She gave me a real ear full when I told her I’d signed up, I can tell you.”

“She sounds like my Ma would have been, she died before I went in though,” he replied and Bucky winced.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, turning onto the right street. 

“No need, it’s been a long time,” he said with a smile, his phone pinging again as it had been continuously as they talked. He sighed. “Probably a good thing we’re almost there with all this going on.”

Bucky nodded even if he had no idea about the content of the messages being received. “Well, you did say you needed to stay in contact.”

The man nodded. “And I have, even if I did get a little distracted talking to you. In a good way though – I…” he trailed off then and Bucky wondered what he was going to say, checking in the rear view and finding that he seemed a little… _sad_ all of a sudden. “Anyway, it’s been nice talking with you, and thanks – you know?”

Bucky… actually wasn’t sure that he _did_ know if he was honest. “It’s been nice talking to you too, pal,” he said anyway, pulling over to let the guy get out.

He charged him the fare, and figured it was just one of those many small interactions that really characterized being a cab driver in New York City for him, even if Bucky would personally really like to see the guy again because there had been _something_ about him. When Bucky let himself get lost in his own head he liked to make it all feel kind of romantic – like it was really all these little interactions that really made the city (and the world beyond, if you really wanted to get into it) go around, rather than money, power and whatever else. 

Really though, he wouldn’t have thought much more about that guy because seeing someone twice by chance in New York was almost a rarity, besides perhaps thinking about how disarmingly handsome he’d been and how he left a slight hint of his pleasantly musky cologne in the car – Bucky was only a very gay man, after all. However, apparently fate or whatever else you might want to call it had different ideas.

“Buddy, there’s a bag here in your foot well,” said his next fare, another businessman type in a stiff suit. 

“There is?” Bucky asked, before picking it up. Aw shit, hot blonde Greek-god-a-like had clearly left it behind. “Uh, pass it here, I’ll put it in the trunk after I’ve dropped you at…?”

“You know the restaurant Oceana?” The guy asked and Bucky nodded, turning into the traffic lane and staring their journey. 

*****

Looking at the bag, Bucky had sighed. He had a couple of options available to him – the first was take the bag back to the depot and put it in the lost and found. In theory, that was probably the most sensible, except for the fact that Bucky knew what happened to things that ended up there. They certainly didn’t always manage to make it back to their owners, and that guy seemed… genuine. 

And the thing was, Bucky was in Manhattan again after the last drop of his shift, so it made sense for him to try and return the goods, right? It was only what any decent person would do. 

He circled back around to the Stark building listening to a story on the radio about The Avengers having stopped some sort of threat out in the Atlantic before it had gotten even remotely close to anything, stopping when he could and got out, retrieving the bag from his trunk. 

He walked up to the doors, feeling very distinctly out of place going inside in his usual day clothes – shouldn’t he be wearing an expensive suit himself or something just to be let in? – but he did it anyway, going inside the doors and to the front desk.

“Good afternoon, how can I help you today?” The receptionist asked. She was a pretty blond with green eyes, hair immaculately pinned back in a knot at the back of her head, and her lips lined with a bubblegum shade of pink that matched her long nails.

“I…. dropped a guy off here earlier and he left a bag in my cab. He was tall, blond…” he suddenly realized how ridiculous this sounded. He didn’t even know the guy’s _name_ , and this place must have hundreds if not thousands of employees. Beyond that, the guy probably didn’t actually work here – he had said he was military after all, not a Stark Industries employee. 

“I’m really sorry, do you have a name?” She asked, and really, Bucky knew already this wasn’t going to work.

“No, I… okay. Sorry. Thanks for your help,” he said, shaking his head and walking back to his car.

Now what?

*****

He drove himself back to the depot, and he left his car there for the night, taking the bag with him. On his way home he dropped into his local bodega, picking up the fixings for an easy dinner (alright, it was instant noodles with some basic veggies and some chicken to jazz it up, sue him) and a couple of beers. 

When he got back to his apartment building, he let himself in and sat down, putting the bag on the small table in his apartment along with his groceries before putting some cat biscuits in the bowl for his long haired white cat (completely off brand for everything else Bucky owned aside his own hair being long) Alpine and then moving onto his own food. 

He made the noodles and ate them in front of the TV whilst drinking a beer, Alpine moving through to flop down next to him and let him pet her fur when he was done. 

“How do I get that… whatever it is back to that guy, huh? And why am I even that worried?” he asked, running his fingers through her fur and listening to her purr happily. Of course, he knew why: Bucky had lost a lot in his life and had seen other guys lose a lot. If he could prevent someone having that – because whatever was in that bag wasn’t Bucky’s business but might be important – then he would. Also the guy was gorgeous, and Bucky would like to get another look, especially if it was another look where he shouldn’t be focusing on something else – like the road in front of him and the traffic around him, for example.

Eventually he sighed, putting his dish in the sink for later - Bucky to deal with and sat back down, bringing up Craigslist on his phone because sitting here now he could see that his TV stand really _was_ looking like it had seen better days. He worked enough - the least he could do was make sure his apartment didn’t look terrible and that he didn’t come home one day to find his TV on the floor. That would be tragic.

He scrolled through, singling out a few that would almost certainly do the job before messaging one, and then it hit him.

Where did you go to find something you needed?

The internet.

Craigslist.

Facebook. 

Twitter.

Bucky opened a new window, and moved to snap a photo of the bag with his phone.

 _[Found in the foot well of my cab. Left behind by a tall, blond, handsome stranger. Don’t try it if it isn’t yours, his wasn’t a face you’d forget.]_

And he posted it. Well, it might not work, but perhaps it would and Bucky had given it a good shot. For measure, he copied the link to his Twitter and onto a local Facebook page, and he assumed that would be that. He mostly didn’t expect any sort of a response, and certainly nothing sensible. 

*****

The next morning, Bucky had messages. The couple of Craigslist itself were a bust and he had two from Facebook both describing contents that absolutely couldn’t be inside that size of bag. 

But one on Twitter… well. That made him raise his eyebrows. 

TheSGR had sent him a DM, and when Bucky had seen the notification he’d rolled his eyes, because that sounded pretty close to what Captain America’s handle was if he remembered rightly.

But when he actually opened it, there was that little blue tick.

This had to be a joke.

Steve Rogers wouldn’t be DMing Bucky Barnes on Twitter after he posted about something so dumb as a lost and found bag in a cab situation… would he?

Bucky couldn’t do much else – he opened the message. 

_Hi, you must be the cab driver I had yesterday. I’ve seen your message about a lost bag – it’s actually mine and to verify I took a cab to Stark Industries, and inside the bag is a sketchbook and some pencils. Nothing of much value beyond personal, but if you’re still looking to get it back to its owner, I’d be pleased to have it back._

Bucky sat back. It _had_ to be the same guy because whilst Bucky hadn’t checked the bag contents, the location of the drop off matched. 

He thought back over how the guy had looked. He hadn’t seen his hair, given it was covered by a hat, but now he thought about it, the shape of that face. Those eyes. The broadness of his body and the power of muscles behind it. The familiarity of him and his voice that Bucky couldn’t place.

Holy shit, Bucky had given _Steve Rogers_ \- Captain fucking America – a ride in his cab and hadn’t even realized who he had in there. 

It was probably for the best - the man was partly responsible for teenage Bucky’s gay awakening after all – but holy _shit_. Bucky was the biggest idiot possible.

Bucky did the only thing that was sensible in this case.

He sent a frantic message to his younger sister.

 _[Becca, what do you do if you gave someone really super famous a lift in your cab without realizing, he left something behind and has contacted you to give it back?]_.

He waited, drumming his fingers on the chair arm before going and putting his coffee machine on, diving back to his phone when it buzzed.

**_[Good morning Buck Buck, lovely day isn’t it? Yes, my job interview went great yesterday, thanks for asking. In response to your question I have questions of my own: 1) Who was it? 2) How did you not realize? 3) Have you considered just giving it back? You know, seeing as that’s what the ad you placed was offering to do in the first place]_ **

He rolled his eyes at her snark – Becca really did take her position as younger sister far too seriously sometimes. 

_[1. Steve Rogers 2) I wasn’t exactly expecting Steve Rogers in my cab, was I? 3) Well yes, but how do I do that without looking like a dork?]_

_**[Holy shit Buck, your wet dream material and symbol of all things patriotism? Okay, that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard – and you didn’t even recognize him! This is absolutely brilliant! And really, at this point I think the not-seeming-like-a-dork ship has sailed, you might as well message him back and then tell your favourite little sister everything.]** _

_[Wow, thanks for the vote of confidence.]_

He wiped a hand over his face after that response. The thing was, much as Bucky was loathe to admit it, Becca was right.

Taking a deep breath to try and remain calm, Bucky tapped back in to Twitter, and opened that message It took him a couple of tries to compose a message that wasn’t basically an overenthusiastic keyboard smash, but he got there. 

_”That would be me – James Barnes. I have to admit I hadn’t checked the contents, but given you know the location this seems legit. How would be the easiest way to arrange for you to get it back?”_

Okay, a bit cringe-worthy, but workable. Bucky could live with that.

Not expecting an immediate response, he pottered back to his coffee machine even as his stomach was churning, making himself a good strong cup and coming back, shocked to find a message notification there again. 

_”Nice to meet you, James – or meet you again, I guess. Listen, I feel real bad for putting you out with this, but would you be available to meet sometime over the next few days? I can come somewhere convenient for you?”_

Bucky tried not to let his brain melt at the fact that Steve Rogers was using the word ‘come’ (albeit in a different context to the one that Bucky would prefer he did) in a sentence directed at Bucky and took another breath, forcing himself to act as cool as possible again.

_”Honestly, your schedule is probably far busier than mine. I’m actually off today and doing a night shift tomorrow, so free til lunch if either works? I’m pretty familiar with NYC, so let me know where’s convenient for you.”_

It wasn’t more than a few minutes before he had a response.

_”Today is actually perfect, I have a debrief this morning, but perhaps you could meet me at the Stark building around 13:00?”_

Bucky did his best not to swoon at the use of military time, his brain unhelpfully conjuring up the images he’d seen of Captain Rogers in his Military formals looking tall, broad and handsome. He managed, but found himself squirming on his sofa instead.

 _”Perfect.”_

He responded, before glancing at the time and swearing. He needed to shower, he needed to shave and he needed to get his fucking brain under control and not turn into some sort of horrible and awkward horny mess.

*****

Despite his best efforts, Bucky felt awkward as he lingered on the sidewalk outside of Stark Industries. He’d already glanced at the time about five times and had congratulated himself on having arrived early, especially when Bucky’s usually MO was to arrive at least five minutes late, usually because he was fussing with his hair. 

He had the nondescript bag in his hand and had checked his phone several times to make sure there were no cancellation messages or whatever else. His heart was beating hard in his chest and his palms felt sweaty – he’d never felt this flustered over anyone before now, and he kind of hated himself for it.

Every time the doors to the building opened Bucky jumped, looking over at it, but thus far it hadn’t been who he wanted to see. Or thought he wanted to see at least – he might not, given he might make a total fool out of himself.

He’d spent ages dressing and fussing his hair, eventually settling on a pair of black jeans that he knew accentuated his best assets (namely his thighs and his ass) and a light blue Henley that he knew made his eyes seem just a shade bluer. He didn’t think it would help anything, of course, and this was hardly a date, but Bucky couldn’t turn up looking like a slob, could he? 

“Oh hi, you made it,” that familiar and deep voice said, coming from Bucky’s side and causing him to jump about three feet in the air. “Oh shit, sorry – I didn’t mean to make you jump!”

Bucky let out a squeak, sure his eyes were as round as dinner plates as he looked at the gorgeous specimen of a man in front of him, standing there dressed in a plain shirt and tan slacks, hair neatly parted and a smile on his lips. His mouth was spread into a sunny smile, teeth straight and that lower lip full around it. Bucky wanted to nibble on it. Bucky had to not think about that to get through this interaction.

“You swore,” Bucky said before clapping his hand over his mouth because _really?_ Bucky had just met a living legend and _that_ is what he managed to come up with? Becca would never let him live this down.

“Yeah, I do that more than the literature would have you believe, huh?” He asked as if Bucky should know, chuckling a bit. “Really though, thanks for coming out of your way to do this, I really appreciate it – especially when it’s only to deliver back a sketchbook. It’s just… it’s personal, you know?”

“I… it’s still your stuff. And really, it’s no problem. I probably should have handed it in to the depot’s lost and found, but…” he stopped, realizing he didn’t want to tell _Captain America_ that some of New York’s cab drivers were less than honest. He didn’t want to give his profession and his colleagues a bad rep. Instead, he handed the bag across, Steve reaching a large hand out and taking it from him with a smile. 

“I can imagine,” he replied kindly, giving Bucky a look that suggested that he knew what he’d been about to say regardless. “Either way it’s appreciated – I…” 

Bucky looked up then, meeting his eyes, and was he _blushing?_

He cleared his throat then, his jaw setting in a way Bucky had seen in old films, almost all grit and determination. “I actually drew you a little something – you know, to say thank you. Sorry, it’s nothing particularly special, I didn’t have that much time…” 

He pulled something out of a pocket – a white envelope – and handed it across. The word ‘James’ was printed across the front in neat cursive in what appeared to be blue fountain pen ink. It was quaint, it was careful and if the man in front of him wasn’t completely endeared to Bucky already this would have done it.

Curiously, Bucky glanced at him, Captain Rogers nodding back at him like he was encouraging him to open it. Bucky did, careful not the tear the paper, knowing he’d keep this – whatever it was – for as long as he lived already. 

Inside was a simple white card, with a cartoon panel drawn on the front. It depicted a cab driver – who was very clearly drawn in Bucky’s image – in his cab finding a bag and going on what looked like a high-speed quest to return it to his owner, then a doodle at the end of a very grateful Cap in full uniform. In the corner the “SGR” had been scrawled and he’d written a big “Thank You!” at the bottom.

Bucky opened it, and inside there was a very simply written “Thank you so much for bringing this back, and thank you for talking to me like a normal guy yesterday, S. Rogers.” And then a number written below.

Bucky’s brain went offline for a second because that…?

“Is this yours?” he asked, pointing at it. Now blushing even harder, Steve nodded. 

“I… you seemed like a nice guy, and I didn’t quite know how to ask if I could take you for a coffee…?” And oh, he seemed so adorably awkward that Bucky wanted to hug him, though that was probably so far over any lines there might be. 

“Is this you asking me if I want a coffee?” he asked back and Steve nodded. “Why?” he squeaked out, before mentally berating himself for very obviously looking a gift horse in the mouth here. 

“Because I liked speaking yesterday, and you’re clearly a guy nice enough to bring back a sketchbook to a location well out of his way. I… kinda kicked myself that I didn’t give you any way to contact me again yesterday once I got out, actually. Anyway, I… saw the pride air freshener inside your car and you called me handsome in your advert... Now, if I’ve got this completely wrong..” He blushed even harder turning properly.

Bucky barked out a laugh, shaking his head. “You, uh, you’re serious?” he asked, because sure, Steve had very famously come out as bisexual within the last year, but really? Bucky? That was who he was interested in? “I mean, yes – yes, I’d love a coffee. When are you thinking?” 

“Now?” Steve offered, his face lighting up even if his cheeks were still pink. 

“Now’s good,” Bucky said before pausing. “But pal, if we’re going for coffee together, you should probably call me Bucky – none of my friends call me James.”

“Bucky,” he said, rolling it around his mouth like he was trying it out for size. “I like that. And friends, huh?”

Bucky’s immediate thought was that he hoped for more and he almost said it before he choked, face going redder himself now to which Steve just laughed, clearly knowing somehow what was going through Bucky’s mind. 

“Come on then, Bucky, I know a place,” he said, tilting his head to indicate the direction they should walk.

Bucky shook his head in amazement – because really, when did stuff like this _actually_ happen? – before deciding that the best thing he could do was go with it. He turned and he followed. Becca was never going to believe this when he got around to telling her. 

He’d often secretly thought he had one of the best jobs in the city. Now he was sure.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and see me on my [Tumblr! ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/oh-i-swear-writes)


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